We got to Lima, Peru 8 days ago, so that means we're supposed to be all better from our jetlag. I read that you can expect about one day per hour of time difference, for your body to adjust. Hello, Body? Did you hear that? Then why was I awake at 3:30 AM today and never went back to sleep?
My number one main delight of Lima was Nancy! She and I shared an apartment when we first came to Peru way back in 1988, and we have a huge file of "Remember when..." stories that just dissolve us into giggles even 28 years later. Even a mention of our cooking back then is knee slapper. We were basically peanut butter and jelly ladies, on bread from the bread guy who came around with his little cart, honking his horn. We would run out to buy from him, and that was the extent of much of our cooking.
We had a cleaning lady who came in for half a day, once a week, and she despaired of our eating style. Both of us were prone to eat standing up in the kitchen, as we'd dash into our apartment between classes, grab and gobble and go. But on Thursdays we'd have to reform or Hermana Dionisia would bully us into a chair and a more proper eating style.
Nancy and I got royally lost together once, as we tried to learn the local bus system. We got out of "local" and went to some township named Mangomarca that no one we knew had ever even heard of. We became a community project as friendly Peruvians helped two floundering gringas find their way home.
We laugh about the time our toilet started shooting water out the back. I ran next door to Rolando the faithful school janitor for help. I didn't know the word for "toilet" yet, so I came out with, "Hay agua en el aire!" (There's water in the air!) Not too clear, but Rolando came running. He plugged the squirting water with his finger, and then had me plug it with mine. He left! I wondered how long I was to stand there! After what seemed a very long time, he came back with a newly whittled plug to replace my finger.
Yesterday we had lunch with missionary Ken Loveall who leads the Bible Seminary in Urubamba, up in the Andes where it's chilly cold! We indulged in a favorite pastime of missionaries: swapping funny stories of language bloopers. I told about a missionary from Chile who was telling the story of the 99 sheep and the one who is lost and how the shepherd went after it. Except the missionary mixed up sheep (oveja in Spanish) with bee (aveja in Spanish) and told the story of the 99 bees, with the one little lost bee who the shepherd went after and put on his shoulders and brought it back to the fold.
Ken told about one time when he was leading singing and was supposed to sing, "Voy al cielo" (I'm going to heaven) and instead sang, "Voy al suelo" (I'm going to the floor.) Quite a different mental image.
Paul was preaching Saturday to a youth group in Cuzco, and said, "I used to be a chicken." Eric Pardine, the missionary translator, said "pollo" for chicken which is a cooked chicken and convulsed the youth.
Shame. I shouldn't be telling Eric's rare mistake. He and his wife Cassandra were so kind to us! They fed us, carted us all around Cuzco in buses, taxi's and in their car. He enthusiastically translated for Paul, organized meetings and acted like he knew us and loved us, when in fact he'd never met us 'til last Thursday.
There were more stories, but time would fail me to tell them all. And I think most people just want to see pictures so we'll start with Lima.
The same trio that went to Rwanda is now on the loose in Peru. We took a "we-we" instead of a "selfie" in a Peruvian park.
But Josh was just pleased with Peru's own Inca Cola. Delicious! It tastes rather like bubblegum.